Thy Making of a Black Conservative.

(ThyBlackMan.com) It was the mid 1950’s. Around 9 years old and the eldest of five, I along with my parents were extremely excited as we wooed and awed over our new home; new appliances and everything. Our family moved from a leaky roof, pot belly wood stove row house in the ghetto of east Baltimore to a brand new government highrise. Apartment 6B was our new home in the 11 story building of all black residents.

Little did I realize that living in the projects and other life experiences would lead to my becoming a black conservative, a Christian and a Tea Party activist.

In a short time, I witnessed the building becoming an 11 story dangerous violent ghetto. Without the pride of ownership or earning their way, only a hand full of residents kept their apartments nice. We kids learned to play hand ball in the square on our floor because Mom thought the playground was too risky. Stairwells became dark bathrooms and dens of iniquity; broken elevators due to vandalism.

And yet, I constantly heard that everything was the white man’s fault. At 9, I sarcastically said, “How can we stop mean white people from sneaking in here at night urinating in the stairwells and breaking wine bottles?”

Dad was among a few blacks who broke the color barrier into the Baltimore Fire Dept. I vividly remember Dad’s outrage about our rent being raised, “Seventy-two dollars a month. They’re crazy. We’re movin’!” Sadly, my cousins on my mom’s side who lived in single mom households remained on welfare. With the exception of one who worked his way through college, my cousins lived wasted lives, serial out-of-wedlock births, substance abuse, AIDS, jail and entitlement mindsets. Several died young. Thus, the bad taste in my mouth for cradle to grave welfare and absentee fathers.

Dad winning Fire Fighter of the Year two times despite working under unfair and humiliating circumstances taught me about trusting and trying to do things God’s way, character, hard work, not whining and the greatness of America. Dad progressed from laborer to Doctor of Theology. Dad eventually won the respect of white racist firefighters who hated him when he first arrived at Engine 6.

Our family’s move out of Baltimore City to a black suburban community meant I would be bused to newly integrated Brooklyn Park Jr, Sr High School in Linthicum, Maryland. I still remember that first day when our two school buses with black students from neighboring Pumphery arrived. With the fear of the seventh grade, an inherited stutter and the sea of 1400 white faces, I was terrified.

My white art teacher, Mr. Gomer, recognized my art talents which ultimately lead to scholarships from several white politicians, opportunities from white businessmen and a successful career as a graphic designer; advertising agencies and a major market TV station.

Drafted in the U.S. Army for two years, I learned that good and bad people come in all colors. Sharing the same skin color does not make someone your friend or a brother.

My gift of seeing beyond an invisible wall of race to see people as individuals rather than monolithic members of a race has been a source of great criticism all of my life.

Thus, when Barack Obama came out as a presidential candidate, I logically listened to his vision for our great nation. When Barack Obama told Joe the Plumber that he wanted to spread the wealth around, I knew his vision was wrong for my country. I passionately campaigned against him.

Apparently, I missed the point of 96% of black voters. Obama should have my support because we are both black. His agenda is irrelevant.

Obama is simply another Democrat pushing the same insulting bigotry of lowered expectations, class envy and cradle to grave government entitlements which have devastated the black community for decades. I joined the Tea Party because Obama’s implementation of his extreme liberal socialist/progressive agenda; his vowed fundamental transformation of America must be stopped.

I have traveled on 12 national bus tours, participating in over 400 tea party rallies. The extraordinary people I met are the salt of the earth. A white Texas couple proudly introduced me to two black babies they adopted from Africa. A terminally ill white fan in Michigan wanted to meet me before she died.

Democrat’s and mainstream media branding the Tea Party racist is the height of racism, irresponsibility and evil. These patriotic Americans are simply saying no to the left’s hostile takeover of their country.

I became a born-gain Christian in my twenties. I grew weary of my meaningless life of drugs, sex and partying. I asked God to help and He did. My faith keeps me strong, confident and focused in my quest to restore my beloved America to it’s former exceptional glory.